Not Children's Fare
by Batsutousai
Summary: Oh, we know what really happened in the graveyard on the night of the last task. –Voldemort/Harry, noncon, chan–


**Title:** "Not Children's Fair"  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. XD(Any offered corrections loved - it's late)  
**Rating:** R/NC-17  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Harry  
**Warnings/Kinks:** Rape/Non-con, Voldie being evile, chan, voyeurism  
**Summary:** Oh, we know what _really_ happened in the graveyard on the night of the last task.  
**Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Inspired by both Ralph's quote on the GoF DVD extras and a crazy sort of discussion that took place at Sodsta's LJ.

-feeling rather daring-

-/-  
_'It's a very disturbing scene. I mean, if you sort of strip away the fairytale fantasy package of it, what you get is a little boy tied up, while an older man humiliates him. And that, translated to the real world is...not...children's fair. At all."  
__**- Ralph Fiennes(Voldemort) on the Graveyard Scene  
**_-/-

_"...And here he is...the boy you all believed had been my downfall..._

_Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand._

Crucio!

_It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end...to black out...to die..._

_And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter._

_"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by _breaking him and then killing him_, in front of you all, where there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him."_

_"Now untie him, Wormtail."_

Wormtail approached Harry, Voldemort directly behind him. And just as Harry had found his feet - his injured leg shaking unsteadily beneath him - Voldemort grabbed his arm and spun him in place - forcing Harry to face the gravestone.

Harry could have sworn he heard his glasses crack as Voldemort shoved him against the gravestone roughly. And then he shoved Harry's trousers down and pulled his robe up roughly.

Harry froze. He was old enough to know that this wasn't a good thing. Distinctly bad, actually.

Cold, scaly flesh touched his backside and Harry bit his tongue to keep from screaming. And then his cheeks were pulled apart - there was blood in his mouth and his tongue hurt, but, hell, what did you expect?

It was like he was experiencing the Cruciatus again - his tongue hurt and his scar burned and his bumhole _screamed_ with pain as something much too big was forced inside it. And it was all too much, what with the emotional turmoil - pain, fear, hatred, horror...

So Harry screamed good and long. He screamed so much that his throat started to hurt. And he no longer felt the pain in his behind.

Later, Harry would recognize that it was only his need to die - protect himself, he corrected his cringing mind - awake that kept him conscious through all the pain and screaming and the...the...

Could he even _think_ the forbidden word?

It was only Voldemort shoving away from him that brought Harry back to himself. Well, the shoving away and Harry's falling to his knees.

Gasping breaths - sobs - was the only sound Harry recognized in the graveyard as he lay there, crumpled against the bottom of Voldemort's father's headstone.

Then there was laughter and something was thrown at him.

"Get up, child," Voldemort sneered, laughter colouring his voice frighteningly. "I want to see your face when I kill you."

But a subtle warmth at Harry's side had silenced his sobs and his hand wrapped around his wand. His _wand_!

Harry stood slowly, grasping at the headstone as he rose. Halfway up, he pulled up his pants - who wanted to cross wands with Voldemort with their pants down? - before facing his...assaulter...unsteadily.

Voldemort laughed mockingly while the Death Eaters sounded like they wanted to be bowing over, clutching at their sides desperately. "Look at the brave little lion cub!" Voldemort called, earning him a few hoots among the general laughter.

Harry raised his wand at Voldemort and mouthed the spell he wanted. But no sound came out. And, hell, his throat was so _sore_...

Shit.

Voldemort raised his own wand.

Fuck. Work voice! Work!

Voldemort's mouth was moving. "_Avada-_"

"_Exp-_" Finally! "_Expelliarmus!_"

"_-Kedavra!_"

And the lights shot at one another and met in the middle...

-/-

Harry carefully made up a story about dueling fairly. How could he tell Dumbledore and Sirius that he'd been...been...

It would take Harry almost a year before he would come to terms with what had happened that night in the graveyard. That night that he faced down Voldemort. That night that _Priori Incantatem_ occurred between his and Voldemort's wands. That night his spirit had almost been broken and he'd almost lost his life. Again.

That night he was raped.


End file.
